


Hair

by MultiOTP



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: A very happy story, Carlos is patient, Cecil is small, Cecil is smol, Cecil/Carlos - Freeform, Fluff, Hive Mind, M/M, Tiny Hive Mind, Tiny!Cecil, cecilos - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7004743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MultiOTP/pseuds/MultiOTP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos, annoyed with his regular hair care in the busy morning, orders a box of what appears to be combs to speed things up with detangling...he's in for a bit of a shock. (Inspired by Tumblr, links in the notes!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ordering

Alright, he was done. A scientist is punctual, that's one thing a scientist is. And a thirty-minute hair care routine in the mornings was a hindrance, if anything. It didn't help at all that all he had was a hairbrush, and the rest of the time was spent struggling to get it all in place and decent-looking. Appearances are important, and there was only so much he could do when he had to pull it back every day. He would finish up with his hair and still be in a rush to get breakfast, dressed, and into the car. He had to be at the lab at seven, and it is just ungodly to force someone up before 6:30 in the morning. Thank god it was a short drive.

He had schlepped home from work that day around 8:00, messy, filthy, and missing arm hair due to an unfortunate chemical reaction caused because _somebody_ doesn't know which chemical is which. Safe to say, it had been a long day. All he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep until morning. However, instead of choosing this wiser option, he did what any twenty-something with time to spare would do.

Internet.

He started out simple. Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter for a bit, the works. After a bit of this he got bored and decided to look up hair gel or something to make his morning routine a tad bit easier, on a whim. He browsed around websites that claimed to be the very best, the most "moisturizing" or "texturing" or "styling" chemical combinations he was willing to put in his hair. 

It wasn't long until he stumbled upon some foreign website that claimed to be all natural, and the pricing wasn't...horrible. He searched around, clicking on various boxes with the Shampoo section, Hair spray section, ect. Eventually he found the comb section, and considered it. It would help. And plus, there's nothing much anyone could do to a comb, as opposed to hair products with all sorts of harmful stuff...nice try hair gel, he knew exactly what Sodium Lauryl Sulfate was and what it did, thank you very much. 

He browsed the combs for a bit, minutes ticking by. He was falling asleep more and more by the minute. He eventually conceded, clicking on the first result of the 12th page and lightly grazing the description. "Helpful...quick...efficient..." This would do. He had to get up in six hours, best to order it and send it back if he didn't like it. What's the worst that could happen? They're just combs.


	2. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The box arrives.

It had been a month. Yes, an entire 30 days since he had sat at his kitchen table at the crack of midnight and ordered a small comb boxed set, for the sake of his convenience and time in the early morning. Truth be told, he'd forgotten about it the next day. The day had been long, tiring, and absolutely horrid, as any and every other day at the lab. It was still his lab, but sometimes it was like nobody even bothered to listen to his instruction or guidance anymore. True, everyone at his lab was a certified scientist, but it was his lab. His grant. His equipment, save for a few beakers and test tubes, but it was still his. He was in charge. At least, that was how it was supposed to be. 

Pondering this, he shrugged his shoulder bag onto the couch and mindlessly wandering over to the fridge in the kitchen, opening it and pulling out some sort of alcohol in a a bottle. Beer? Tequila? Who knows. He sat at yet the same kitchen table and slumped in the chair, staring mindlessly at the wall across from him. It was silence, save for the soft tapping of his shoe on the ground, as he leaned forward and rubbed his eyes quietly. He cracked open the unknown alcohol and took a swig, screwing his face up a bit. Definitely beer. Why the hell was that in there anyways? He hated the cursed stuff. 

The doorbell rang, echoing the sound of a feathered, weary child throughout his small home. Don't ask why a feathered, weary child. Don't ask what a feathered, weary child sounds like. You'd know. You'll know. When it happens to you. 

Carlos picked his head up off of the table, rubbing his temples and setting the bottle down. He shakily stood and slupmed over to the door, opening it to see nobody there. All there was was the box at his feet, about as big as a miniature elephant. As small as an abnormally large lego. Come to think of it, Carlos couldn't really remember how big it was, but it was light enough to carry. He checked the label on the box, recognizing the company the box came from, as the website he'd ordered the combs from a full month ago. Jesus, post offices are slow nowadays. Maybe just usual Nightvale weirdness kept it from arriving on schedule. 

He glanced at his phone clock, noting the time and turning back to the box. He'd open it in the morning. It was 23:37 NVST (Night Vale Standard Time), far too late to still be up. He'd fuss with it in the morning. 

Carlos sighed and set the box down to take another swig of the whatever-it-was, earlier determined to be beer, and picked it up again, marching down the hall and setting it on the bathroom counter. It was time for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Art that Inspired it: https://67.media.tumblr.com/29994ee45237149d824f96a49720c05f/tumblr_o7u8kfWnd41v7cshro3_540.jpg  
> The Girl that made the art: http://melonishereforfandoms.tumblr.com/  
> The post that Inspired it: http://umberelloli.tumblr.com/post/145069320753/melonishereforfandoms-umberelloli


	3. Opening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The box opens itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Cursing in this chapter.

It's early. Too early. 6:30 A.M. and the alarm beside his bed is blaring like an air raid siren right in Carlos' ear, waking him up without fail. He grabbed the stick he had by his bedside and beat the rouge clock back into submission on his bedside table, letting out a breath of relief when it was successfully subdued. Yawning and looking around, he stretched and ruffled his hair as he usually did after waking. Only, this time...something was different. Without a doubt. This time, he distinctly felt some small things fall out of his hair and onto the pillow, along with what sounded like an itty-bitty squeak. He whipped around, checking his pillow and headboard for anything, to see nothing. Then the fuck realized that the light was still off. Dumbass.

He reached over and clicked the lamp on, and turned back down to the pillow, only to be met face to face to face to face to face with four tiny, itty-bitty, one inch tall... _human beings_. Climbing. Up. His. Shirt. 

He screamed, and with that they all screamed, and with that even more screaming could be heard coming from the rest of his head. So before long thirty or so one-inch-tall people and one 6'3 terrified human being were just sitting in bed screaming at each other, only stopping to take a breath. 

After a bit the screaming ceased, only to be pursued by intense interrogation for the little...men? Men, it looked like. All identical, adorned in what was later observed to be a white button-up shirt, purple sweater vest, and thick-rimmed black glasses. Ashen white hair and pale skin, these tiny things seemed to be perfectly normal. If not, you know, a fucking inch tall.

Carlos brushed them off of him softly, along with scruffing his hair onto the bed, the rest falling out of their cozy spots. He stared in awe at them, reaching for his glasses to see them, now that they weren't on his shirt. He counted thirty altogether, all staring up at him. Some in awe, some in annoyance, and some in what could be read as adoration. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses, making sure these were actually humanoid-like creatures and not just some seriously terrifying lice. No dice. Still people.

"How long have you been in there?!" He questioned, panicked and weary. They all shrugged, staring up at him with little grins. He squinted, trying to get a better look.  
"What...what are your names?" More shrugs. That seemed to be the basis of their communication skills at this point. He tried pressing them for details about who they were, who put them in there, how long they'd been in the box, ect. Nothing. Just more shrugging. They all looked at him impatiently until he asked why they were there. There was no shrugging. Only grins and giggles as they all ran to him and climbed up his shirt again, gripping the fabric with their tiny hands and hoisting themselves up higher and higher. He started to panic again, but their little bodies crawling up him tickled a bit, making him laugh lightly. Better than more screaming. His voice was hoarse, and his neighbors were probably _pissed_. 

They all got up to his hair, squirming around and fussing with the mop of dark bedhead, grumbling and huffing at the poor state of his hair. three minutes went by, and Carlos was getting a little concerned and curious. How much did he drink last night? Only a few sips of a beer, right...? Surely he wasn't still drunk...sure, he was lightweight, but not _that_ much...

His thoughts were interrupted by thirty tiny voices chorusing together to say "Ta-Da!" He rose and stumbled to the bathroom, looking in the mirror to see his hair, perfectly arranged and combed. He squinted, confused, curious as to why on earth these little _things_ broke into his home to sleep in his hair and maintain it. He reached up to scratch his head before his hand was batted away by one of them, defiantly pouting and saying "No!" That's when it hit him. The box. He looked down at the box, knocked to the floor, the side busted open with several holes. The thing looked like it had been shot up from the inside. 

He looked up at them in horror, wondering exactly how strong these things were, before he was quickly comforted from the thought of malicious intent by them resting in his hair, a few of them braiding a strand or two by committee. He smiled softly, before his eyes widened as he ran back into his bedroom and grabbed his cellphone off of the charger, opening it and dialing Kirstin at the lab. The phone rang a few times before she picked up with a yawn.  
"Carlos...? What is it? Are you headed in yet?" She questioned into the phone, as he paced around the room nervously.  
"Kirstin, I can't make it in today. Science. Very important science, here at home. I'll update you when possible, I'm real sorry!"  
"Carlos, wh-" She was cut off by one of the little men crawling down to his ear and shouting "Hello!" Into the microphone.  
"Kirstin, it's a long story! I'll fill you in when possible, take over in my absence!" He practically shouted into the phone before setting it down. He had some science to do.

\--------------------

Okay, the universe hates him. That's the only conclusion. Why else would all of his lab equipment break the moment he attempted to get a closer look at one of the little guys? The only equipment he had left was a scalpel, and no way in hell is he going in for surgery on one of these cuties. They all sit in his hair as he thinks at the table, scratching his neck. He'd forgotten to shave among all of this mess. With the other hand he was absently eating a breakfast sandwich, hastily stuck in the microwave after his stomach had demonstrated a whale's mating call a few times. Occasionally he'd stick the sandwich up to his hair, waiting for the little guys to eat.

A thought struck him. He didn't know if any of them had names. He glanced up, annoyed and frustrated with his lack of results. "Do any of you have names?"  
"Cecil!" They chanted together, taking him off guard as he stopped mid-chew.  
"Cecil?" They all make a sound indicating the affirmative.  
"...all of you are named Cecil?" That sound again. He slowly sat his sandwich down, staring upwards. 

He spotted his laptop across the table and pulled it over to him, clicking on the Firefox symbol and waiting for it to load. He then pulled up the website he'd bought the "combs" from, clicking around until he found the thing he ordered. His heart sank as he read the description.

_"These high-quality plastic combs shipped straight from Rome-"_ Nothing helpful. At all.

No mention of itty-bitty human beings in the box, and as he went back to check later, no food or water in the box either. No blanket or heating pad or anything. Just a cardboard box. How cruel would you have to be to send these cuties to live in some potentially disgusting person's hair in a box with no provisions? Plus, it took a month to get here? How are these poor guys still alive, let alone healthy?

He had some major research to do.

...but until them, they were having a blast making their attempt at cornrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Art that Inspired it: https://67.media.tumblr.com/29994ee45237149d824f96a49720c05f/tumblr_o7u8kfWnd41v7cshro3_540.jpg  
> The Girl that made the art: http://melonishereforfandoms.tumblr.com/  
> The post that Inspired it: http://umberelloli.tumblr.com/post/145069320753/melonishereforfandoms-umberelloli


	4. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cecil's™ need a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Warning: Cursing) I apologize for the suck of this chapter, it was written at two A.M. The worst chapter so far, and hopefully the worst to come.
> 
> Comments are crack to me.

Carlos had long since put his breakfast sandwich out of it's misery, now more concerned with typing away hurriedly at his computer. Surely someone on google had info on what the heck these little creatures were, where they came from, how to care for them, etc. So far, nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Apparently nobody had purchased the same product before and submitted an issue with the company, the website, or anything. All the feedback was a five-star rating, with no actual review. No help. Jerks.

He had felt the little things squirming around in his hair, sometimes making pleased noises or snoring, and he thought he'd heard one say the word "Floofy", whatever that means. He'd asked them several times if they needed anything. Fresh air, sunshine, food, water, etc. They'd all just said "No". Together. At once. In unison. 

After a little while he reached up to run his hand through his hair, as he'd done so in the past and they'd just crawled over his fingers. Instead, he couldn't. There were little...pockets? Pockets of air, where the hair had been pushed aside and matted away to make tiny little caves of hair. Carlos squinted, slowly getting up and running to the bathroom to look at his hair, pulling some gently aside to see a tiny little Cecil curled up and sleeping there. Further inspection revealed dozens more of these little caves all throughout his head, along with some itty-bitty Cecil's, angry at him for ruining their hard work. They had disgruntled little looks on their faces, waving their little fists and using every word they knew to bitch him out. These words included their own names, Carlos' name, and a few hair-care related terms. Not too threatening, but Calros got a bit upset (understandably) when they started pulling at the little hairs on the nape of his neck. 

This only led to more arguing, which led to aggressive hair-brushing, which led to a broken hairbrush and angrier parties. Carlos got frustrated and tried combing his hair with his fingers, no brush, and failed. He winced as he felt a tiny little pinch on the tip of his finger, lifting it out of his mane to reveal one of the little guys latched on to his fingertip firmly, biting it softly. That little jerk. Little jerk with narrowed, determined eyes. Little jerk that made adorable noises while munching on Carlos' skin, including growling and some sort of weird vibrating. 

It took hours, but communication and negotiation managed to get him somewhere. A.k.a, Carlos would be washing his hands in Tabasco sauce for a few weeks. 

It was progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Art that Inspired it: https://67.media.tumblr.com/29994ee45237149d824f96a49720c05f/tumblr_o7u8kfWnd41v7cshro3_540.jpg  
> The Girl that made the art: http://melonishereforfandoms.tumblr.com/  
> The post that Inspired it: http://umberelloli.tumblr.com/post/145069320753/melonishereforfandoms-umberelloli

**Author's Note:**

> The Art that Inspired it: https://67.media.tumblr.com/29994ee45237149d824f96a49720c05f/tumblr_o7u8kfWnd41v7cshro3_540.jpg  
> The Girl that made the art: http://melonishereforfandoms.tumblr.com/  
> The post that Inspired it: http://umberelloli.tumblr.com/post/145069320753/melonishereforfandoms-umberelloli


End file.
